The Thankful Tree

Today I was at Balboa Island exchanging my TOMS and discovered this tree:


Upon further investigation, the tree had a little baggie and a sharpie tied to it with a note: "Please leave a not with something you are thankful for."

There were probably at least 100 notes hanging on various places on the tree full of things people are thankful for. What a cool idea!


This one was mine:

There were even a few in different languages, but this one was my favourite:


I will be doing this at my house in the future. Love it!

Insert a Clever Title about "A Girl Every Guy Should Date" Here:

Okay, I may be a girl, but I still loved reading this!! I "Stumbled Upon" it this afternoon and had to share it! Enjoy!

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

– Rosemarie Urquico –

A Confession

Sometimes, when God tells me to do something, all I want to do is scream "NO!" or "I don't WANT to!" and stomp my foot like a little bratty three-year old.

Sometimes, I do what God wants me to do, but I have a bad attitude. And I may take a break from doing what He wants me to do just to kick and scream and thrash my body about.

Sometimes, when the way I have planned out my life does not go my way because God says "No. Here's something else for you", I cry. But not a pretty cry. More like a red-faced, snot-dripping, blubbery-mess kind of cry.

Looks kinda like this:

St. Thomas Didymus

Yesterday I posted on FaceBook about my English class. My amazing professor, Dr. Cheri Larsen Hoeckley was reading the poem by Denise Levertov entitled "St. Thomas Didymus".

As she was eloquently reading this moving poem, she became emotional (as would most people who read this poem); her voice quivered briefly, but she continued on, beautifully reading this poem; and two tears slid down her face. Not many people noticed until later when she was discussing Thomas putting his hand in Jesus' side and got emotional once more.

All of us were moved.

(Well, maybe not the jocks who are too cool for reading poetry, but I can safely say all the women were moved.)

I thought I'd share this poem with you:

St. Thomas Didymus

In the hot street at noon I saw him
a small man
gray but vivid, standing forth
beyond the crowd's buzzing
holding in desperate grip his shaking
teeth gnashing son,

and thought him my brother.

I heard him cry out, weeping and speak
those words,
Lord, I believe, help thou
mine unbelief,

and knew him
my twin:

a man whose entire being
had knotted itself
into the one tightdrawn question,
Why,
why has this child lost his childhood in suffering,
why is this child who will soon be a man
tormented, torn, twisted?
Why is he cruelly punished
who has done nothing except be born?

The twin of my birth
was not so close
as that man I heard
say what my heart
sighed with each beat, my breath silently
cried in and out,
in and out.

After the healing,
he, with his wondering
newly peaceful boy, receded;
no one
dwells on the gratitude, the astonished joy,
the swift
acceptance and forgetting.
I did not follow
to see their changed lives.
What I retained
was the flash of kinship.
Despite
all that I witnessed,
his question remained
my question, throbbed like a stealthy cancer,
known
only to doctor and patient. To others
I seemed well enough.

So it was
that after Golgotha
my spirit in secret
lurched in the same convulsed writhings
that tore that child
before he was healed.
And after the empty tomb
when they told me that He lived, had spoken to Magdalen,
told me
that though He had passed through the door like a ghost
He had breathed on them
the breath of a living man --
even then
when hope tried with a flutter of wings
to lift me --
still, alone with myself,
my heavy cry was the same: Lord
I believe,
help thou mine unbelief.

I needed
blood to tell me the truth,
the touch
of blood. Even
my sight of the dark crust of it
round the nailholes
didn't thrust its meaning all the way through
to that manifold knot in me
that willed to possess all knowledge,
refusing to loosen
unless that insistence won
the battle I fought with life

But when my hand
led by His hand's firm clasp
entered the unhealed wound,
my fingers encountering
rib-bone and pulsing heat,
what I felt was not
scalding pain, shame for my
obstinate need,
but light, light streaming
into me, over me, filling the room
as I had lived till then
in a cold cave, and now
coming forth for the first time,
the knot that bound me unravelling,
I witnessed
all things quicken to color, to form,
my question
not answered but given
its part
in a vast unfolding design lit
by a risen sun.

~Denise Levertov

Let's Never Do This Again

11:00 pm.

What are you generally doing at 11:00 pm? Sleeping? Studying? Writing? Reading? Watching tv? Eating?

I am generally doing homework or studying. Last night, I was doing just that; writing a paper, enjoying the wind from the open window bringing in cool air, and listening to Christmas music with my roommate and our friend across the hall, Chloe.

My other roommate had just spilled water all over my desk and I was mopping it up. Suddenly, Chloe said she smelled something burning. The three of us, being concerned that some spilled water had gotten into my outlet or my power-strip, quickly turned off all the electrical things and pulled out flashlights to investigate what was happening.

After a little bit, the smokey smell went away, we turned back on the power, and continued about our business. Shortly after doing that, the smell came back! Chloe and I redid the unplugging and turning off and Meg went to find our RA.

Meg returned very quickly and said she smelled it everywhere. As we had just been coming to the conclusion that the wind was bringing in the burning smell, the fire alarms went off and chaos was unleashed: girls screaming, crying and grabbing their phones and computers; our RD shouting that this was not a drill and to get down to the gym as fast as possible; RAs counting their residents; people regretting things that they did not grab; everybody's ears ringing from the fire alarm; and plenty of panic to go around. Everybody (especially the seniors, I am sure, since they were here for it) was thinking about the Tea Fires that had destroyed the hills behind Westmont, burnt down some of one of the dorms, charred many trees, and was very scary.

Soon after getting to the gym, completing roll call, and praying, a voice spoke over the loudspeaker "A home is fully burning about Page Hall (my dorm, you know). Given the high winds, Montecito Fire Department has asked all the students to go to the gym until the situation is assessed and stabilized. Further announcements will be made there. Students will remain in the gym for a minimum of two hours." Apparently, some moron was playing with firecrackers (we could hear them earlier) and the house caught on fire.

As a giant "Ugh!" echoed across the gym, even more freshman girls burst into tears.

My darling friend Elaine and I were chatting nervously about some kind of cat to stop thinking about the fire.

After about only forty five minutes, the loudspeaker voice spoke again: "The fire has been contained. Montecito Fire Department has suggested that all students return to their dorms but be ready to leave immediately if necessary." Instantly, cheers broke out throughout the gym as people rushed back to their dorms and other stood shakily up to slowly, cautiously creep back up the hill.

The alarms remained blaring extraordinarily loudly, so although we were allowed back into our dorms, most people remained huddled outside the dorm for about another hour until the alarm died down and was shut off. Every now and then, it would go off and people would freak out, but for the most part, many hearts began to slow and pills were popped to tend to the headaches from the noise.

At about 3:30, I finally was getting ready for my 8:00 class the next morning (or the same day, actually) and climbing into bed. My ears were still ringing from the alarm and I could hear alarms from the other non-dorm halls alerting everybody and yet nobody that there was a fire and to get out. They finally shut off at about 5:00 and I could sleep for about two hours before it was time to get up again.

So, that was my night/early morning. I am exhausted.

I experienced it. I remember it. I hated it.

Let's never do this again.

My "Thankful List"

This year I am thankful for:

~My family (with a shout out to my mama, my papa, Evangeline, Ray Ray, and Jackie)

~My puppies Hamish and Havie

~My bestie, Nicki

~My amazing school, Westmont

~My friends from school (both high school--yes, Aubree, this means you--and college)

~My RD, Shannon Balram

~My RA, Rhianna

~All my amazing classes (well, almost all my classes--my CS/Philosophy and my Bio classes are NOT fun)

~My fantastic professors

~Musicals

~My MacBook (love, love, love, love)

~My iPhone

~My house

~Mariners Church

~Literature (Jane Austen, Francine Rivers, William Shakespeare, the Bronte sisters)

~Riding horses

~Playing polo

And so many more. I'll update (edit) this post throughout today and tomorrow. :)

Mother Knows Best

Since I started school this year I have learned many, MANY things. A good deal of those learned things are things my mother attempted to teach me. Here is a list of what my mother tried to teach me only to have me have to relearn it.

~bedtime. Ugh. I used to read late into the night. She would always come in, take my book, and shut of the light. I'd wake up somewhat grouchy, but would be fine in an hour. Now I can read until 3:00 in the morning and have nobody to come in and force me to go to bed. I, now, am a living, breathing zombie who takes naps at every opportunity.

~study habits. This one is embarrassing. My mama would have me study each class for about an hour after I got all my homework done and I got pretty darn good grades. Now, as soon as I get my homework done, it's nap time. Immediately. And my grades aren't a a fan of this new schedule.

~laundry. Oops. Yep, this one too. It really shouldn't be so hard to pause my studies, walk down the hall, down the stairs, and into the laundry room with a basket of laundry, detergent, and my laundry card, but trust me--it IS.

~eating. Old schedule--cereal, eggs, granola bar, or toast for breakfast; sandwich for lunch; and something like a chicken breast, broccoli, garlic bread, and caesar salad for dinner. New schedule--no breakfast; sandwich for lunch; and whatever unhealthy food the DC has out tonight or an overdressed salad for dinner.

~spending. Actually, spending is not the problem. Earning is. I earn about one-third weekly of what I used to.

In the words of a brilliant song in a fantastic Disney movie "Mother knows best. Listen to your mother."

Snape. Snape. Severus Snape.

I love Snape. The end.

Must I explain why? I think not. If you've read Harry Potter, you'll understand.

For all you fellow Snape-lovers, I was introduced to a video done solely by individual drawings. Unfortunately, the artist disabled embedding, so you will just have to follow the link here to see it. It's pretty darn fabulous.

Everything Skit

My friend Kellie showed me this amazing video. Definitely worth six-ish minutes of your time.

So fantastic! God is good!

Novels vs. Plays

I adore my literature class.

So much.

There is nothing about this class that isn't to love--writing papers, reading fantastic literature, discussing new vocabulary, and memorizing poetry.

I have noticed, however, that I do not like reading plays. I would far rather read a novel than a play. I mean, really, wouldn't you rather read something like this (from Sense and Sensibility chapter 4):

"But have you not received my notes?" cried Marianne in the wildest anxiety. "Here is some mistake I am sure--some dreadful mistake. What can be the meaning of it? Tell me Willoughby; for heaven's sake tell me, what is the matter?"

He made no reply; his complexion changed and all his embarrassment returned; but as f, on catching the eye of the young lady with whom he had been previously talking, he felt the necessity of insistent exertion, he had recovered himself again, and after saying "Yes, I had the pleasure of receiving the information of your arrival in town, which you were so good as to send to me," turned hastily away with a slight bow and joined his friend.

Or would you rather read the same text like this:

Marianne: "But have you not received my notes? Here is some mistake I am sure-- some dreadful mistake. What can be the meaning of it? Tell me, Willoughby, for heaven's sake tell me, what is the matter?"

Willoughby: "Yes, I had the pleasure of receiving the information of your arrival in town, which you were so good as to send to me."

EXIT WILLOUGHBY

I definitely would rather read the first one. Don't get me wrong, I love plays, but just not reading them.

(Also, please take note of the brilliance of Jane Austen in this passage.)

Order!! Order in the Court!

I want to work in Africa after all my years of schooling are over.

My dad, ever concerned about my financial state, suggested I go through med school or law school and work as a missionary that way. It'll earn me some money (for me, my kids, and my potential orphanage) and it'll still be doing what I love.

I said that there is NO WAY I could EVER be a doctor of any kind (other than perhaps a professor), but that I would look into law school.

I did as I said and have been doing some research. What's an LSAT? What kind of law would I need to study? How many years until I graduate from law school? And perhaps most importantly, how much would x amount of years at a law school cost?

As I have been looking into this, the more I like it....the more I love it, actually.

This seems right for me.

A graduate school fair came to Westmont today. I got to listen to tons of school's little spiels (yep, even Biola's! HA!! As if! It'd be like me getting my bachelor's at USC and then going to get some sort of graduate's at UCLA. No way.). I talked to about a half a dozen law schools including Liberty, USC, Southwestern, UCI, and Chapman.

However, the one school that stuck out to me was one called Trinity Law. I went up to talk to this guy and he told me, among other things, that Westmont grads get an automatic 50% scholarship, along with any other scholarships we may ascertain, simply by graduating from a Christian school. He said that they are trying to get future lawyers to be able to get on with what God has for their life and not have to spend forever trying to pay back their schooling.

Doesn't that sound just perfect for me?

Instead of having to work at a killer firm after law school just to repay Westmont and my law school, I can just work to repay Westmont and focus most of my time on my job out in Africa.

Pretty sure this is my future school.

And I'm pretty stoked about it too.

And so is my dad.

How to be A Christian Hipster

My Papa sent me this video the other day. So funny. And so very true. Basically every leader at my church has something like this going on.

Enjoy!!

More Life Planning

For the last few months, I've been composing a list of names for my children.

This is not weird.

I think....

Girls:

Hadassah~nickname--Haddie (Esther's jewish name and, for all you Francine Rivers fans, the main character in one of the best books ever.)

Blue (Although, I'm not sure how to spell it. "Blu" maybe? And yes, another book character name)

Anne

Boys:

Matthew

Jeremiah

Adam

Atticus

Moses

Middle Names:

Aslan

Atticus (either a first name or a middle name)

Moses (same as above)

Lucy

This is a working progress. It'll be far longer in the future I assume.

Kenya Believe It!?

During our Religious Studies class today, our prof, Dr. Lee, brought a friend to come and lead class, Dr. Omedi Ochieng.

As he walked in, the first thing that crossed my mind was "Oh! He's from Kenya (I could just tell. Don't ask...)! I hope he has an accent". Honestly.

I. Got. My. Wish.

And I have never been so attentive in class in my LIFE. I was hanging on his every word as he described his life in Kisumu, Kenya; his education at a Christian university in Nairobi; and his education at a school in Ohio where he got his Masters and Doctorate degrees; and many other interesting topics in a very thick Kenyan accent.

After class, I went to go talk with him to hear more about his life in Kenya as he suggested. He asked me if I had ever been to Africa and upon my telling him that I am going to Ethiopia in June or July and that I fully intend to live in either Ethiopia or Kenya post graduation as a missionary, he got very excited and asked me other questions (in his Kenyan accent, might I add). I told him that I am going to be taking Swahili (as soon as I can afford it!) and he taught me my favorite verse in Swahili (yeremia ishrini na tisa nambari kumi na moja) and complemented my pronunciation and accent.

I almost died.

Right there and then.

In case you are wondering, I fully plan to marry a Kenyan (or Ethiopian, for that matter) man. He can read Redeeming Love aloud to me. Favorite book + husband with stunning accent reading it out loud = one very happy Margie.

(You're welcome for the punny title, by the way.)

Missing!

Missing:

One Betta Fish.

Left in a Tupperware "hospital tank" thingy after obtaining an injury. Tupperware thingy had black rocks and faux blue seaweed in it.

Gone missing approximately 25 hours ago.

Betta fish is about two inches tall and weighs about 3 ounces. Has black eyes and a blue and salmon body. He is injured from a fight and couldn't have gone far. Fins are damaged and need to be returned to the "hospital tank" ASAP. Responds to the name "Hagrid".

If found, please contact:

Margie Hausam

Westmont College

MS #1645

955 La Paz Rd

Santa Barbara, CA 93108

(Okay, people. This is no joke! I came back to Westmont from visiting home and my roommate, Emily, asked me if I took Hagrid with me. No, I didn't, of course. We searched the whole room thinking that maybe the "hospital tank" cover had slipped out and he jumped out to kill himself--Bettas do that when they are injured--, but no Hagrid. He is nowhere to be found! We were wondering.....maybe someone took a fish? An injured fish? Not the beautiful, healthy Betta, Haiku, swimming in the huge tank? Not the skittish, but entertaining goldfish, Hunamed, swimming in the other tank? Not the African Dwarf Frog, Harper, swimming in yet another tank? But the injured Betta healing in a Tupperware dish? I dunno....)

The Giraffe Test

My grandmother sent this to me a while back. I thought it was hysterical! Also, I epically failed this test. Try it and see how you do!

1. How do you put a giraffe into a refrigerator?
(stop and think before you scroll down.)












The correct answer is: Open the fridge, put in the giraffe, and close the door. Duh.

This question tests whether you tend to do simple things in an overly complicated way.


2. How do you put an elephant into a fridge?





Did you say "open the fridge, put in the elephant, and close the door."?

Wrong answer....

















The correct answer is: Open the fridge, take out the giraffe, put in the elephant, and close the door.

This one tests your ability to think through the repercussions of your previous actions.


3. The Lion King is hosting an animal conference. All the animals attend....except for one. Which animal doesn't attend??













Correct Answer: The elephant. The elephant is in the fridge. You just put him there. Remember?!

This one also tests your memory.

Okay, even if you did not answer the first three questions correctly, you still have one more chance to redeem yourself. Pressure's on.

4. There is a river you must cross, but it is manifested with hungry crocodiles and you don't have a boat. How do you manage it?




When I asked my brother, Ricker, he answered: You go in the fridge.
Um, wrong answer. But good try!









The correct answer is: You jump into the river and swim across. Have you not been paying attention!? All the crocodiles are attending the Animal Meeting!

This one tests whether you learn quickly from your mistakes.

Did you get it right?

According to Anderson Consulting Worldwide, around 90% of the professionals that they tested got all the questions wrong, but most preschoolers that they tested got the majority of the questions correct!

Happy Birthday!

My birthday was so much fun!! Here are some pictures:

My darling roommate, Meg, made me a brownie/ chocolate and vanilla frozen yogurt/ Lucky Charms/ "happy birthday" stick-figure man dessert. I did not eat it all...I had help. It was good!
I woke up, on my birthday morning, to find these Sticky Notes on my bed from Darling Meg.

(The last one says "Enjoy today! Love, Meg.")

I found this little beauty one my door. Kind of a funny inside joke--there is an IT guy whose name is Gaston. I was joking with my friend asking if he was dashing and cute. She said "A little ", so we looked him up on FaceBook. He's a body builder. Now you get it?


My amazing RA, Rhianna, left these notes for me on the mirrors:

(2C is my section in my dorm, FYI)
Mikela made me delicious brownies! And I found about 15 different notes left on my desk.My parents sent me some balloons!
Dr. Lee didn't even know it was my birthday, but class outside on the grass was a birthday present in my opinion. And, for the record, this picture was taken during our five minute break.

My amazing neighbors, Anna and Heather, threw a surprise tea party for me! Compete with scones, chai tea, Mad Gab, tons of friends, and laughter.The amazing hosts:
So. Stinkin'. Fun!

The following night, a group of about ten of us went to go see "The Help". If you haven't seen it, go see it!! I've seen it twice and I LOVE it. So good.

Plus, 112 people wrote on my FaceBook wall and I got 23 "Happy birthday!!" texts and one "17 Things I Love About Margie" text. I thought I might add.

Overall, I had a pretty darn great day!

20 Things to Do Before I Am 20

Happy birthday to me!

As a birthday present to myself (and to you really), I wrote a list of 20 things to do before I'm 20--idea credited to Allison Hibbard. You can read her blog here.

These are my goals:

1. Visit Africa at least 2 times.

2. Lose 25 pounds.

3. Run a half marathon.

4. Read over 150 books.

5. Go to 6 different countries.

6. Read the entire Bible.

7. Get a tattoo (You can read about it here)

8. Pierce my nose--yep! I want a tattoo and a pierced nose. Aren't I a rebel?

9. Learn to play an instrument of the orchestra (excludes piano and guitar).

10. Learn to sight-sing written music.

11. Compete in a Polo match (the Prince William kind).

12. Buy my own car.

13. Preform in at least 2 musicals.

14. Make and eat an entirely homegrown salad.

15. Record an album (over 10 songs) even it's never released.

16. Become scuba certified.

17. Sponsor 4 children. One in Ethiopia, Kenya, Zimbabwe, and Uganda.

18. Defeat my mother in a game of "Words with Friends". (This may sounds stupid, but believe me....she kicks butt.)

19. Memorize 10 Bible verses.

20. Collect all 50 state quarters from scratch. My parents did this like 3 years ago. My turn!

I am 16 Going on 17

Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be 17.

In addition to a new age, something else will be new this year--how I celebrate my birthday.

Before: I'd wake up with a family member bouncing on my bed, whether that be my dog or a human family member, I don't know. It changes.

Now: My alarm on my iPhone screams "WAKE UP!! Time for your 8:00 class! Get moving!".

Before: I'd sit down to a delicious breakfast prepared by one of my parents. I could even request something.

Now: The Dining Commons. Good old cereal.

Before: We'd go do something fun for the whole day--Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, San Diego Zoo, the Getty, etc.

Now: Classes until late afternoon and my Disneyland pass expired.

Before: Family dinner complete with birthday cake, ice cream of my choice, presents, and singing.

Now: The DC. Good ol' meatloaf.

Before: Bedtime at a reasonable hour after dessert.

Now: Bedtime whenever I want after I watch an R rated movie, of course. 'Cause I can.

Before: I'd pretty much be queen for the day.

Now: Professors always reign supreme.

Before: I could do almost anything I wanted.

Now: I could do the same, but my grades would suffer badly.

Before: I was under my parents' wings.

Now: I'm flying (close to--not paying for very much) solo.

Will I do something fun? I hope so! But studying for those exams on Friday comes first.

In case you are wondering, I will blow out candles. Imaginary ones--no candles allowed on campus. My wish will probably be this: Good grades and that people will stop "YOU'RE HOW OLD!?"ing when someone tells them my age (I stopped this about the first hour at Westmont. The first time it's SO much fun to get that reaction, but by the 100th time, I'm done.)

I'm not complaining, it's just a new and foreign phase of my life. The phase in which one transfers into the life of a grown adult. But that's for next year--the adultness. And I definitely have already planned my 18th birthday.

Are You My Mother?

During orientation, Westmont had a meeting solely for the Page Hall girls (my dorm, FYI). In this meeting, our RD, Shannon, confronted the issue of husband hunting--something all of us girls have been tempted to do--that includes me.

I mean, it is very likely I will meet my Prince Charming (or my Michael Hosea for all you Redeeming Love fans) here despite the terrible 2:1 ratio of girls to guys. My parents met here. My friend's parents met here. It's very likely! So likely, in fact, that it has been hard for me to not look at any random guy and think to myself "Are you my husband?" despite the fact that I'm so not boy-crazy or terribly interested in a boyfriend currently. I kinda feel like the baby bird in the book Are You My Mother?.

Shannon made an excellent point during that meeting, "Girls, you may not meet your husbands here, but you will meet some of your bridesmaids."

Great. Now every time I look at my suite-mates, I think "Are you my bridesmaid?".

Freshman, Pay Attention

The other day, I was reading this brilliant book called "Special Topics in Calamity Physics" (by Marisha Pessl) and discovered this brilliant quote.

As a little back story, the main character, Blue van Meer (LOVE that name!!), is entering into her first day of school and is talking to herself about how to act. As she walks into the hall, she sees a person pretending to be busy and is staring at a blank notebook and thinks:

"I'm obliged to reveal an old trick: implacable self-possession can be attained by all, not by pretending to look absorbed in what's clearly a blank spiral notebook; not by trying to convince yourself you're an undiscovered rock star, movie star, top model, tycoon, Bond, Bond Girl, Queen Elizabeth, Elizabeth Bennett or Eliza Doolittle at the Ambassador's Ball; not by imagining you're a long-lot member of the Vanderbilt family, nor by tilting up your chin fifteen to forty-five degrees and pretending to be Grace Kelly in her prime. These methods work in theory, but in practice they slip away, so one is left hideously naked with nothing but the stained sheet of self-confidence around one's feet.

Instead, stately dignity can be possessed by all, in two ways:

1. Diverting the mind with a book or play

2. Reciting Keats"

So good. I haven't finished it yet, but I definitely recommend it!

Here Goes Nothin'

I love summer.

A lot.

(I just don't really like the heat; I'd far rather it be cold enough that I could only wear jeans and jackets or sweatshirts and my trusty Toms--maybe I should move to England for a semester...)

Summer is a time for me that I can work hard at earning money, hang out with my friends that disappeared under a stack of school books and homework assignments, practice my instruments, exercise, "spring clean" my room (spring is way to close to midterms, so my cleaning generally happens during the summer), get my hair done, go to camp, and ride horses. What part of that is not amazing?!

Well, now summer has come to a close.

As I sit here, writing this, I am in Santa Barbara at my college, Westmont, with most of my belongings unpacked, my three fish in baggies at my parents' hotel (traumatized from the drive up) waiting to be relocated to their tanks on my desk, my two froggies hiding under their log in their terrarium (traumatized from the drive up), and my new MacBook Air (which I still have absolutely no idea how to work) set up on my desk.

Class starts on Monday.

Am I nervous?

Incredibly.

Am I excited?

Extremely.

Am I ready?

Probably not, but here we go.

DONE!!!!

It is official,

I. AM. DONE!!!

Goodbye, school. Goodbye, Biola STAR. Goodbye, senior year. And (best of all) goodbye, high school!!

Hello, summer. Hello, Westmont college!!
Hello, FREEDOM!!!!

It, quite frankly, feels unreal. I am fully ready to wake up, realize it was a dream, and go back to sleep. Or have someone tell me "Oh, by the way, you have to re-do ten classes this summer". Or maybe this is like Christmas break in that I have one week to cram for finals, do projects and homework, and have only one day to celebrate.

But, NO!! It is not a dream! It is reality!!! I am done with high school FOREVER!!! I am on to the next part of my life: college, AA degrees, and bachelor degrees. I am excited.

My sweet Papa left notes all over for me yesterday. The first one I found was in my purse. It was written in purple sharpie "Last Day of High School! Yahoo!!". Then the purple one in my Torrey notebook "Hey. Who's the gorgeous creature with the cute bangs over there? Her? Oh, yep, that's the new high school graduate!". What about the one in my chemistry book "Excuse me, but are you in high school? Uh, NO. I used to be."? Or the two in my note book "Did I hear correctly: that you are a 16-year old High School graduate? Yes you did!" and (in purple and green) I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but aren't you...? Yes, I am, a 4.0 High School graduate!". And the purple one in my book "Who's proud? Papa's Proud. Who's proud? Papa's proud. How proud? REAL proud!". And the two other in my paper stack (in gray marker) "I am so proud of you!".

My personal favorite is a picture of two stick figures--one with a straight line for a mouth, two downwards pointing lines for eyes, a straight line for a nose, no hair, and a soul patch (my dad) and the other with a smiley face, scoopy eyes so they look closed, long hair with bangs, and a guitar in her hands (me)--with an arrow saying "Proud" towards my dad and one saying "Graduate" towards me.

World's best dad goes to....my dad!

Happy day. :)

Toms' One Day Without Shoes!!

(Please pardon how VERY late these pictures are....it took me forever to figure out how to put pictures on this...sorry!)

Toms' One Day Without Shoes was SO fun!! I got to go to school, voice class, and work completely barefoot! Although, I did have to be very careful where I walked; I have stepped on far too many bees, sharp rocks, and little sister earrings for my feet to do much more.

Here are some pictures from the day:

"Fact #1 Growing Up Without Shoes--in many developing countries, children must walk barefoot for miles to school, clean water, and medical help."

"Fact #2 Injury and Disease--hundreds of millions of children are at risk of injury, infection, & soil-transmitted diseases that most can't afford to prevent and treat."

Fact #3 Education and Opportunity--Children who are healthy are more likely to be sucessful students & access to education is a critical determinant or long-term success."

"Fact #4 A Better Tomorrow--healthy, educated children have a better chance of improving the future of their entire community."




The barefootians.

He wanted to make sure he was in the picture. I think I got 'cha, Garrick. :)

"With every pair you purchase, TOMS will give a pair of new shoes to a child in need. ONE FOR ONE."

Hypocoristic Aliases

My poor doggies have been inflicted with a ton of pet names over the years--mostly by me.

The youngest, our little girl, has by far the most pet names and will come immediately upon being called with a happy jaunt.

She goes by (and responds to):
~Haviland Aberdeen (her given name)
~Havie
~Have
~Aberdeen
~Aberdeenie
~Deen
~Deenie
~Aberdin
~Zaberdini
~Haberdin
~Haberdeen
~Haverdeen
~Haberdini
~Havokland
~puppy
~little girl
~baby dog
She also responds to "HEY!! No no!" although she generally comes to me, ears back, tail tucked, and absolutely slinking.

Our other doggy, our boy, has a few, but he generally only responds when he wants to.

He goes by:
~Hamish Argyle (his given name)
~Hamie
~Hame
~Hamie boy
~Mr. Hamish
~his royal highness
~the King
He also responds to "Wanna TREAT!?" and "Who wants breakfast?!"; other than that, he does as he pleases. (A little side note, Hamish is called the King because, even when being yelled at for some sort of naughtiness, his nose is high in air and he looks at you with a "what are you going to do about it??" sort of face. Very hard to be angry at him.)



Havie is on the left and Hamish is on the left. Aren't they sweet!?

College Bound!

Ya' wanna know a scary phrase?

"College choice" *shudder*

It is so hard! I only applied to two colleges (Westmont and Biola--nobody criticize me. I have good reasons for both) and it was still soooo hard!!

Biola got back to me pretty darn fast. I got in with a $5,000 scholarship!! YAY! I only had one more acceptance letter from Biola left and I was IN. I was waiting for the Torrey Honors Institute to get back to me about my application. After weeks, and weeks, they finally did...with bad news. I was not accepted because they had too many students already.

I was very sad, mad, discouraged, disappointed, and a little hurt. The only reason I applied to Biola, visited the campus, and invested a lot of time sending my application in was to get into Torrey.

So! After crying, shredding the darn letter, and taking two weeks to mope around, I moved on. OCC (a local junior college) was next on the list for me. What about Westmont? Well, long story short, my hatred of huge tests helped the SAT kill me and I didn't do so well despite my grades. I never dreamed that anyone would even give me a second glance at Westmont.

After applying to OCC and researching their swim team info, I got a letter back from Westmont. It was thin-not an acceptance packet. It was a you've-been-put-on-the-waiting-list-because-we've-had-a-record-number-of-applicants letter.

I gave up.

Done with the waiting to hear back from colleges, I decided on not waiting until May 5th (at the time it was early April) to hear if I got off the wait list and accepted at Westmont and I was GOING to OCC. That was my plan. The end.

However, my darn mother had to step in. "We are waiting to hear back from Westmont and until then, we are making no college decisions". I was irate. MY decision was made.

Convinced Westmont wouldn't even consider me and that OCC was in my future, I waited until May 5th to say "I TOLD YOU SO!!" to my mother. I was very wrong.

My wonderful counsellor (she seriously is the cutest thing) called me last Tuesday and left a voice mail message (I was in class). I called her back thinking "HA! This is the end!" and also fearful of what she was going to say. If I didn't get in, that means I failed at what my parents wanted me to succeed at. Bad. {Little side note--I HATE failing.}

"Hi, Kaitlin. I have some very good news for you! You've been taken off the wait list and have been admitted at Westmont! Congratulations!! Also, I have even better news! You've been given a $10,000 scholarship!"

I asked her WHY I would get a scholarship! I bombed the SAT for crying out loud!

She said my GPA (3.97 and it will be 4.0 at the end of the year-honors classes!) was enough.

WHAT?! Evaluate this for a second. I got in to the BEST Christian college on this side of the equator with $10,000--5K more than Biola gave me.

Of course, I told her I'm in!!

So there it is! I am now an admitted Westmont student (well, come fall).

P.S. For all you Westmont alums out there, I'm thinking I might just stay in Page.

P.P.S. 3 months and 19 days until classes begin!

Extra Credit Assignment

What happens when my Foundations of American Thought Torrey tutor (the best, hardest four-in-one AP class ever) excuses a reflection essay and offers a extra credit poem instead?

I write one.

Or at least, I attempt to write one.

She asked for either a sonnet or a 30-line free verse poem in order to get extra credit. I did a sonnet but made it veeery long. Her assignment was to write either a sonnet or a 30-line free verse. I chose to write a sonnet; it's just veeeery long. I was debating about putting it on my blog (or anywhere at all), but, well here it is:

Trust

It is strange to trust an unseen Being

or even trust at all. Sometimes the thought of sobbing, of dying, or of fleeing

seems far easier than remaining caught

between two opposing sides and picking

—when asked to do so—with a Christ-like mind.

Trust? Trust that He always remains sticking

nearby and faithfully helping you find

the right decision to make in a time

when crawling into a hole and hiding

seems appropriate? Not so easy at times.

I wish it were simple to do so. Sliding

into sadness and trying to breathe. Can’t.

What to do? Need to be saved from this. How?

Write a letter? Talk it out? No. I shan’t.

Trust! ‘Tis the key. Christ knows my plans right now.

With this in mind and worship song too,

all will be fine for a day or a few.

When next doubt comes to mind, I’ll know what to do—

No more distrust or fear for me today.

I’ll read the passage Jeremiah 29:11

and turn my exhausted eyes toward Heaven.

What do you think?? I'm still not sure if I like it or not.

(P.S. When I figure out how to get the pictures, I'll share some that I took on Toms' One Day Without Shoes!)

Going Without Shoes!

Remember a while back I wrote about being a spoiled OC kid?

Well, this is kind of about the same thing.

How many of you have lots shoes in your closet? I have a grand total of twelve pairs of shoes (four of those are Toms). I recently read an article somewhere that said that children in Ethiopia dream to someday own their own pair of shoes. I, as a child, dreamed about owning a horse ranch (I still do, ya' know. It shouldn't be in the past tense...). I always have had shoes. TONS of them!! I never needed to worry about stepping on something sharp or poisonous because I had so many pairs of shoes to wear that protected my feet.

People in third-world countries (specifically Africa) are blessed to own one pair of shoes that may or may not fit. Foot disease is rampant. Common diseases people in Africa get such as podoconiosis (“mossy foot”), schistosomiasis, tungiasis, hookworm, and even diabetes can all be prevented by wearing shoes!

I am raising awareness by joining Tom's One Day Without Shoes. On April 5th (this coming Tuesday), I am (and is everyone else who supports this and is raising awareness) not wearing shoes for the entirety of the day. I'm going to school without shoes, going to work without shoes, and going to voice class without shoes. If anybody asks why I am barefoot, I'm going to tell them of these people and what Toms is doing to help.

So, my challenge for you and your family and friends is this: Who’s with me!? Will YOU go barefoot on April 5th? Will YOU raise awareness too?

New Blog!!

This is the URL for my new blog completely devoted to my plans for my Africa trip and stories from this trip- http://myafricastories.blogspot.com. Once I figure out how to do it, it'll have a link to PayPal that you can order the clothes and shoes I am making and eventually there will be a place you can donate!!!

I am raising money to be able to go to Ethiopia in September and every extra cent will go to Hannah's Hope, the orphanage my sister, Ray Ray, is from.

Enjoy!

Be Thinking

Going to Ethiopia on a mission trip will cost roughly $4000 for me. I have $0 to do that. It's pretty awesome, I must admit.

In order to be able to go, I'm doing all sorts of fun fundraisers! Like washing cars, babysitting, baking cookies. My friend, Savannah, suggested I design clothing too!!

I'm going to buy plain t-shirts, baseball shirts, bibs, sweatpants, hats, Toms, Vans, Converse, and many more such things and draw, spray-paint, and label things all over them!! Things like verses or words in Amharic, a picture of Africa or Ethiopia, and other such coolness.

I'm setting up a new blog as we speak...er, as you read....and will publish it soon! On this blog you can read about my plans for my trip to Ethiopia, buy the clothing or items through PayPal, donate money through PayPal, use my links to visit other sites that sell clothing that part of you purchase goes to a child or a cause in Africa, and eventually read all about my trip in Ethiopia. It'll be amazing...I hope.

So...be thinking. Is there some sort of clothing you would like to see made? Is there one you want to buy?

Paper Chains, Post-It Notes, and Permanent Tattoos

Let me just say that if I made a paper chain or a Post-It Note calendar for every countdown I'm keeping track of, my room would be chock full of paper chains and my bathroom mirror would have no room for me to see myself from all those calendars that would crowd it.

Here's what I'm keeping track of:

My First time...
~teaching a guitar lesson--18 hours from now.

~taking my license test--5 days and 6 hours.

~getting results back from the colleges to which I applied--1 month, 3 days, and 5 hours.

~seeing Wicked--1 month, 4 days, and 19 hours.

~graduating--3 months, 4 days, and 10 hours.

~moving out--6 months and 11 hours.

~beginning college--6 months, 1 day, and 11 hours. (According to Biola's starting date.)

~turning 17--6 months, 11 days, 4 hours, and 27 minutes.

~going to Ethiopia and beginning my life as a missionary (provided school and finances permits)--6 months.

~becoming a legal adult--1 year, 6 months, 11 days, 4 hours, and 27 minutes.

~getting a tattoo*--1 year, 6 months, 12 days, and 4 hours.

~graduating college--4 years, 3 months, 4 days, and 10 hours. (According to Biola's ending date.)

~beginning my Master's degree--6 years and 1 day. (According to St. Stephen's University's starting date)


Soooo excited to begin!!


*This is the scandalous tattoo that has me so excited:

Pretty cool, huh? It says Jeremiah 29:11 (my favorite verse) in Amharic (the language spoken in Ethiopia--the country my sister's from and where I will be a missionary). Yes, my parents have approved. No, I don't care that many people won't like it. Yes, I like it. Yes, I have thought about how to hide it. Yes, I have taken into consideration what aging will do to it. Yes, I still want it anyway.